Dear Blog
Saturday April 18th On Our Way
After spending the night at the Peppermill Casino—our usual choice when we have an early 6:00 a.m. flight—we headed out for our trip to Orlando and then on to Port Canaveral for our 11‑day Bahamas cruise. The itinerary wasn’t bad at all: a short hop to Salt Lake City and then straight on to Orlando. As many of you know, airport time is the worst, so the fewer stops the better. Even going through TSA wasn’t bad — of course it was only 5 a.m. and at that hour the agents still seem to have a bit more patience and kindness to spare.
Having flown more than 850,000 miles, you’d think I’d be completely comfortable with flying. I’m not. I don’t worry about a pilot who might be going through a personal crisis, or a sudden mechanical failure like a fuel‑pump issue or a turbine malfunction, or even the plane going down in a fireball because of a thunderstorm no one saw coming. No—the thing that unsettles me most these days is the other passengers.
First, we have the aisle blocker. This is the person who steps onto the plane, walks three feet, and then just… stops. Suddenly the middle of the aisle becomes the perfect place to reorganize their entire life. They’re pulling out jackets, laptops, and snacks. Meanwhile, the rest of us are stacked behind them like dominos. Then comes the seat confusion specialist. Why does boarding a plane make grown adults forget how numbers and the alphabet work? You hear: “Sir, that’s my seat.” “No, it’s not.” Then he stares at his ticket like it’s written in ancient hieroglyphics. “Oh… my mistake.” Yep. Yep, it is. Next is the overhead bin engineer. This person tries to fit a suitcase into the bin that clearly violates the laws of physics. They push. They shove. The flight attendant gently says, “Sir, it’s not going to fit.” And he responds with the confidence of a man who has never been wrong: “No, no, I’ve got it.” Then there’s the loud phone call person. They’re boarding the plane while simultaneously closing a business deal, breaking up with someone, or ordering something on Amazon that they don’t need. Everyone within a five-row radius now knows their entire life story. And finally, the slow walker. They stroll down the aisle like they’re on a museum tour, admiring the overhead lights, smiling, living their best life—while creating a traffic jam that delays everyone behind them. This is why I order a Bloody Mary the moment I’m allowed. Do I want a Bloody Mary at 6 a.m.? Not really. Do I need one? Without question.
It felt like a small miracle when we arrived in Orlando and saw our driver waiting for us in the arrivals hall, holding a sign with our name on it. The ride to Port Canaveral took about 45 minutes, and our taxi driver turned out to be the quiet type. In our experience, drivers are usually either chatty or completely silent so they can focus on the road while flying through a 50 mph zone at 80 miles an hour.
We pulled up to the Radisson Hotel in Port Canaveral, close to where our cruise will set sail. We always arrive a day early. Seasoned travelers know it’s wise to get as close to your departure point as possible. And by “seasoned,” I mean well‑aged and have had a few travel mishaps over the years that have definitely added some spice as well as grey hair.
Traveling from the West Coast to the East Coast is supposed to be easier thanks to the time change, but after waking up at 4 a.m. to catch an early flight, it doesn’t really matter. At this point, all we want is to settle in, sip a glass of wine, find some dinner, and call it an early night. Tomorrow, the real adventure begins—cruise day.
